


Loose

by INMH



Series: hc_bingo fanfiction fills 2019 [33]
Category: Days Gone (Video Game)
Genre: (accidental) Violence, Blood, Gen, Post-Apocalypse, Strong Language, Toothache
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 08:22:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20927114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INMH/pseuds/INMH
Summary: It’s the little miseries that really make the Shit a wonderful place to live in.





	Loose

There’s something wrong with one of Deacon’s teeth.  
  
It started hurting a few weeks back, and it’s just progressively gotten worse and worse. Maybe one of them got fucked up from that fight he got a few months ago, or maybe the tooth was already going bad and just got worse from the lack of consistent dental hygiene in the Shit. Oh, he and Boozer _try_, if only because they know how easily one little thing can become a big thing if left ignored- but it’s not like they can just pop out to the corner store and replace the toothpaste tube once it’s done.  
  
The pain is aggravating, but the really _dangerous_ thing is that it’s making it hard to eat. And given how scarce food is, and how little ability they have to preserve what they hunt, it’s kind of important that Deacon be able to eat- especially considering that he can’t do his runs when he’s half-starved.  
  
Boozer has noticed, because Boozer notices everything. “You alright, brother?”  
  
Deacon grunts in response. “Chewing’s getting harder.”  
  
“You want me to punch you in the jaw, see if that takes it out?” Boozer’s joking, but honestly, Deacon’s starting to consider it.  
  
“Go ahead.”  
  
Boozer snorts. “Knowing our luck, I’d knock out a bunch of teeth _except_ for the one that’s giving you trouble.”  
  
He’s not wrong, but that doesn’t make Deacon any less desperate for him to do _something_ to alleviate the pain.  
  
Deacon lays awake at night. Sometimes the pain is too distracting to let him sleep, and sometimes he rolls over in his sleep and is shocked awake by the pain, even light pressure on his cheek being enough to set the tooth off. There are mornings when he wakes up, delirious from a combination of exhaustion and pain, and seriously considers just grabbing a pair of pliers off the worktable at the foot of the tower and going to town on his tooth.  
  
He always talks himself out of it, though: Partly because he’s not a damn dentist and there’s a good chance he’ll make it worse; and partly because if simply lying on his cheek is enough to hurt, gripping the tooth with the pliers and pulling on it will probably be enough to make him pass out.  
  
So Deacon suffers- primarily in silence, once it gets to a point that even talking hurts like a motherfucker.  
  
Of course Boozer notices. “Maybe we should do something about that tooth.”  
  
Deacon grunts noncommittally in response, careful to open his mouth a bit before he does- if his mouth is closed and he grunts, or hums, or anything similar, the vibrations go right to the tooth.  
  
“Maybe we should go to-”  
  
“_No_.”  
  
Boozer was about to say ‘Lost Lake’, and they both know damn well that that’s not an option.  
  
It’s not that Deacon’s stubborn, per se- if the world were still as it had been before, he would have gone to the dentist and had this taken care of before it ever even had a chance to get to this point. He’s just not terribly confident that anyone left alive has the _skill_ to take care of this properly, and is concerned that he’s gonna get the one idiot that thinks they know what they’re doing only to _completely_ fuck up and kill him somehow.  
  
And that would be a fuck of a way to die.  
  
So Deacon suffers.  
  
He suffers for a while.  
  
Like, _months._  
  
On the day the suffering (sort of) ends, it is an accident. It is absolutely an accident, because Boozer might _joke_ about punching Deacon in the face, but he’d never actually do it unless he really, really had to- especially considering the circumstances. And to be fair, Deacon is so punchy from the hell he’s been living in that he really doesn’t notice Boozer lifting the log for the fire until he’s been knocked on his ass, the explosion of pain in his cheek sending him to the ground.  
  
“Sorry!” Boozer hissed as Deacon doubles over on the ground, almost tipping forward to face-plant in the dirt. “Shit, Deac, I’m sorry!”  
  
Deacon can’t respond, because his vision’s spotty and his whole jaw feels like he’s just been deliberately bashed in the face with a wooden bat. Everything goes blurry, and suddenly his mouth is full of blood.  
  
He spits, and out comes the tooth.  
  
It’s definitely _the_ tooth: It’s grayish-yellow and just _awful_ looking.  
  
“Ugh,” Boozer says, grimacing. “Well, that’s disgusting. Feel any better?”  
  
Deacon groans. “Not really.”  
  
That’s not totally true, though: His jaw is still aching, and the spot where the tooth came out is pretty raw, but the actual source of the pain is gone- when he’d groaned, he hadn’t felt the same shock of pain that had come with any sort of vibration near the tooth. Still, the gums and the root and whatever is left where the tooth was sitting are probably infected to hell and back.  
  
Boozer seems to realize that, because holds out a hand. “Come on, brother. Let’s get you to bed- I’ll get you some antibiotics, clear up any shit that’s left.”  
  
He has to basically drag Deacon up the staircase to the tower and throw him into bed. They don’t have ice, really, and they’re low on painkillers since Deacon’s been favoring them for the last few weeks, but Boozer shoves some and some of their remaining antibiotics into his hand. “Thanks.”  
  
“If it doesn’t heal up, I’m dragging your ass to one of the camps for help whether you like it or not.”  
  
“Whatever.”  
  
“Remember that when I’m hog-tying you and putting you on the back of my bike.”  
  
As it happens, Deacon’s bad luck takes a good turn: After a week or two of a mild to moderate fever and the rest of the antibiotics, Deacon seems to return to health. The place where the tooth was remains tender, but he can move his jaw and talk and eat normally again.  
  
“Next time, you can just punch me and get it over with.”  
  
Boozer snickers. “If you insist, Deac.”  
  
-End


End file.
